


Shedding Armor

by RaeDMagdon



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Bondage, Edging, F/F, Forced Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, Magic Bondage, Marking, Mating, Mating Bites, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Power Bottom Jaina, Rough Sex, Sort-of Arranged Marriage?, Sylvanas is technically Jaina's prisoner but doesn't stop things when she has the chance, moderate angst, primal, somewhat AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25276795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: Sylvanas is Jaina Proudmoore's prisoner, but Jaina has something besides vengeance in mind for the Warchief of the Horde.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 82
Kudos: 710





	Shedding Armor

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to post this publicly, but a kind DM from a reader convinced me. To the kinky lesbian, bisexual, and queer folks out there who might need to hear this... it's okay to have fantasies like this. You aren't broken.
> 
> WoW lore is dumb, so I grabbed the parts I liked and ignored the ones I didn’t. Don’t think too hard. Reader’s choice which dumb war crimes Sylvanas actually committed in this ‘verse, since canon sucks anyway.
> 
> For WoW Newbies: Sylvanas is an undead high elf (Warchief of the Horde), who used to be an honorable general. She was murdered and resurrected by Jaina’s (Human Mage, Alliance) ex-boyfriend Arthas (The Lich King, Giant Prick) and forced to help him conquer Azeroth. After his death, Sylvanas broke free, repossessed her old body, and became Queen of the other sentient undead.

Sylvanas woke to a world of darkness.

Darkness blinded her. Darkness pressed in on all sides. Darkness filled her lungs and throat, threatening to strangle her. She took several shuddering gasps before remembering she didn’t need air. Centuries of habit hadn’t died completely over the past two decades.

Once she determined that she was still ‘alive’, her world expanded from darkness to pain. It had been years since she’d experienced the sharp, physical agonies she recalled from life, so perhaps pain was no longer an accurate descriptor. Undeath forced her to process unpleasant sensations differently than she once had. 

Instead, she catalogued her injuries with cold detachment. Her nose and mouth oozed ichor, fluid dripping onto her lips and chin. Her ribs had caved on one side, their endpoints gouging somewhere within. One of her legs lay sprawled at an unusable angle, and she assumed it was broken, too.

_ Where am I? _

Sylvanas propped herself on one elbow, studying her surroundings, but the unyielding blackness made it impossible. Her prison didn’t have a single source of illumination. That explained her blindness. Even  _ quel’dorei _ night vision required small amounts of light.

Sound and smell told her little more. The only noises she heard were of her own making, and she smelled no trace of omegas, betas, or fellow alphas of any species—just the sharp, unrelenting scent of the arcane. Magic-sensitive though she was, Sylvanas noted nothing distinguishing apart from raw power. She did manage to determine that she was lying on a stone floor, but aside from that, she knew nothing.

As she adjusted to her surroundings, she tried to recall her most recent memories. There had been fighting. Lots of fighting. The salt spray of the sea. Booming thunder. Constant rocking. Had she been aboard the  _ Banshee’s Wail? _ Was she still? Surely not, or there would be wood beneath her, and her prison wouldn’t be so silent…

Suddenly, the world exploded with light. Sylvanas squinted, attempting to shield her eyes with her hand, only to find it trapped. Her arms were wrenched behind her back, pinioned by an invisible force. The swell of magic grew stronger, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. She struggled, but whatever force had bound her refused to yield.

“Windrunner. You’re awake.”

In her fuzzy state, it took Sylvanas a second to place the voice. Then the scent of unclaimed omega filled her nose, and she remembered.  _ Proudmoore.  _ That was the enemy she’d fought during the storm. Anduin’s pet mage. His attack dog. The human omega who had claimed the title of Lord Admiral, as well as the entire Kul Tiran fleet. She had posed considerable problems for the Horde ever since.

Very little frightened Sylvanas, but a shiver of fear crawled up her spine. Proudmoore wasn’t an enemy to be underestimated. She was capable of leveling entire cities single-handed. Frankly, she was one of the worst possible jailers Sylvanas could conceive of, an omega with practically unlimited power and a considerable temper.

Nevertheless, Sylvanas calmed herself. If Jaina had wanted to grant her a permanent death, surely the deed would be done by now. As she blinked in the blinding light, her vision returned. It was indeed Proudmoore who stood there, dressed in a gold-bordered blue greatcoat and white corset. She clutched her staff in both hands, her posture guarded.

_ Interesting. _

“Ah, the little lion’s fiercest lioness,” Sylvanas said, in her most confident drawl. She couldn’t afford to show any more weakness than her bound, prone position already revealed. “I assume this is your doing?”

Jaina’s eyes flashed, twin bolts of blue lightning upon her stormy countenance. “I put you here, if that’s what you mean, but I’d say your current position is your own doing.”

Sylvanas forced a dry laugh. That proved to be a mistake, because her broken ribs protested. Just because she no longer felt sharp, urgent stabs of pain didn’t mean she was free of her injuries’ duller discomforts. “You will hear no argument from me, Proudmoore, but  _ why _ am I here?”

Jaina studied Sylvanas with an unreadable expression. After a heavy pause, she returned her staff to the holster on her back. She folded her arms, still tense with what Sylvanas could only assume was suspicion.

“Why haven’t I killed you, you mean?”

Sylvanas lowered her ears. “Most of your allies would say my ‘death’ is long overdue.”

Jaina did not argue the point. “You’re alive, if you want to put it that way, because I have questions.”

“And you believe I have answers,” Sylvanas replied, against her own better judgment. Something about Jaina’s presence…  _ irritated _ her, for lack of a better word. She should be frightened, she knew, or at least wary of the infamous Daughter of the Sea, but her fear gave way to bravado in spite of her vulnerable position. Jaina’s scent, her arcane aura, her very presence made the room seem smaller and warmer, in an uncomfortable way.

Jaina studied her coolly, without rising to the bait. The only sign of disquietude she displayed was a slight flare of her nostrils. “I know you do.”

“If I have, why should I give them to you?”

“Because you’re my prisoner, and your life is in my hands.”

Sylvanas realized then why she wasn’t afraid. The permanency of death was by far her worst fear. It was the sole reason she’d survived ordeals that would have destroyed most. She had feared Arthas Menethil’s cruelty and lust for power as well, but in Proudmoore, she saw no hint of sadistic, murderous pleasure. Instead, she saw anger, an emotion as familiar to her as her own hands wrapped around a bow.

A smile twitched at the corners of Sylvanas’s lips. Proudmoore wore her anger well, with those plump, rosy lips curled, white hair threatening to fly free of her braid. The bunch of her jaw only drew attention to the graceful column of her throat, upon which a silver anchor pendant hung.

_ In life, I might have found such a creature beautiful. _

“Very well,” she said, holding Jaina’s glare. “Ask your questions. I have no other pressing matters to attend to...”

“You shouldn’t,” Jaina said, “as you’re my prisoner.”

Sylvanas struggled against her magical bonds again, merely to test them. They hadn’t weakened. It would take considerable energy to break free, if doing so was possible, and so far, Jaina hadn’t tried to kill her. The longer they traded barbs, the less likely Sylvanas considered that result to be.

“Does that please you?”

“What?”

“To have me as your prisoner.”

“No.” Jaina’s mouth formed a thin line. “Should it?”

Sylvanas flicked one ear, the elven version of a shrug. “You would be surprised how many leaders find pleasure instead of shame in the ugly necessities of war. Or…” She studied Jaina closely, examining the rise and fall of her chest to see if her breathing sped up. “Perhaps you wouldn’t.”

Jaina’s breaths didn’t speed up. She paused for a long moment, then withdrew something from her coat. “This is a healing potion,” she said, brandishing a corked green flask. Dark liquid filled the transparent bottle half-way. “It isn’t poison, but it should fix the bone breaks and abrasions, at least.” She waited again, as if expecting thanks.

Sylvanas offered none.

With a frustrated huff, Jaina approached. “One wrong move, and you’ll regret it.” She knelt, while Sylvanas remained still. As Jaina closed the distance, the omega’s scent became stronger. Pleasant but insistent, like a warm sea breeze.

“You know my people require specialized healing potions, yes?”

Jaina merely uncorked the flask and held it to Sylvanas’s lips, tipping the liquid into her mouth. Sylvanas hesitated, but decided to drink. She doubted Jaina would poison her while she was already bound and imprisoned.

The potion tasted foul, which was no surprise. What  _ did _ surprise Sylvanas was the brush of Jaina’s fingertips against her lips, as well as the strange pull in her stomach that resulted.

Jaina removed her hand and the flask so abruptly that Sylvanas was certain the contact had been accidental.

_ Of course. How squeamish the living are, touching my kind. _

The potion took effect instantly. As soon as Sylvanas swallowed, tingling warmth ran down her throat to pool in her belly, spreading to her hands and feet. Her ribs straightened, causing more discomfort before realigning themselves, and she adjusted the position of her leg so the broken bone could fuse properly.

“Healing me was unnecessary,” Sylvanas said, in a slightly strained voice. The process hadn’t been pleasant, and neither were the prickly jolts of numbness that signaled her nerves reconnecting. “I was in no imminent danger.”

“Unnecessary for you, maybe.” Jaina straightened, although she didn’t retreat to her former position. “Necessary for me.”

Sylvanas was tempted to roll her eyes. Even more than before, she doubted Jaina would kill her. “I hope you aren’t waiting for gratitude, but I will answer your questions now, if it pleases me.”

“Fine.” Jaina straightened her shoulders as if preparing to go on parade. “Did Arthas torture you?”

Sylvanas merely blinked. There was no reason to dignify such an asinine question with a response.

Jaina lost a bit of her composure, running a restless hand through her hair. “Did he…take pleasure in the act of torture?”

“Of course. Did you suspect otherwise?”

Jaina’s mouth moved, but no sound came forth. Eventually, she managed to say, “I don’t know.”

“That would be a no.” Sylvanas licked her lips, tasting traces of what passed for her blood. “Allow me to ask a question. Why do you care?”

“That isn’t how this works,” Jaina snapped. “This is an interrogation.”

Sylvanas snorted. “An awfully personal one, don’t you think?”

Jaina’s eyes flashed again. She reached for her staff before suppressing her frustration, but the furrow in her brow and the stiff line of her shoulders betrayed her. “Is it so unbelievable,” she said in a tightly controlled voice, “that I would empathize with you?”

Despite her precarious position, Sylvanas couldn’t help admiring Jaina’s bravery. Few would dare confront the Banshee Queen with such honesty, even while she was bound and imprisoned. “I never asked for anyone’s pity, nor your own misplaced guilt.”

“It isn’t a matter of asking. You became… this…” Jaina gestured at Sylvanas. “Because of Arthas. And I could have easily become like you, or like him. So I need to understand—”

Anger flared in Sylvanas’s breast, burning brightly. How  _ dare _ she? How  _ dare _ this insolent omega shove her selfish fingers in such a wound, like a doctor probing for infection? And for what purpose? To satisfy some morbid curiosity? To see the monster she might have been, had Arthas enslaved her? To confront the sins she might have committed, had she become the Lich Queen instead of him?

“You understand  _ nothing,”  _ she snarled, lips peeling back from her fangs. “You know  _ nothing _ of the torments I endured. You lost your city? Your friends? So have countless others in this world. I lost something far more precious. I lost  _ myself. _ Your Prince took my very essence and kept it as a trophy, twisting it to his will. I was denied the freedom of a true death.”

“You’re right.”

As quickly as it had formed, the flame of Sylvanas’s anger was doused, leaving only ash. That was the last response she had expected. She also didn’t expect Jaina to kneel beside her again, and only partially managed to conceal her surprise as the omega entered her personal space. Sylvanas shuddered despite the lack of contact. Jaina’s presence, so close and yet so far, felt almost like a physical touch.

“That’s why I haven’t killed you,” Jaina said, in a gentler voice. “I should. Part of me thought I might when I entered your cell, despite orders. You’ve done terrible, unforgivable things—but perhaps we all would have, if we’d been the Lich King’s puppets.” She paused, then smiled, a weak and uncertain thing that nonetheless softened her face. “Did I tell you I almost flooded Orgrimmar?”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “When would you have had the opportunity to tell me such a thing before making me your captive audience, in the most literal sense?”

“It’s a figure of speech. Just listen. After Theramore’s destruction, I… lost myself. Maybe not the same way you did, but I was…” Jaina sighed, blowing an impatient stream of air through her lips as she searched for words. “I was a slave to my own desire for revenge. Thrall and Kalecgos stopped me. If they hadn’t, I would have killed countless innocent people.”

“As I have.” Sylvanas rose to her own knees, though it was difficult with her hands pinned behind her back. To her surprise, Jaina touched the side of her arm beneath her pauldrons and above her wristguards, near her elbow. It took Sylvanas a moment to realize it was an offer of assistance, one she had little choice but to accept.

“Yes.” Jaina’s hand remained on her elbow for several seconds before withdrawing. “I can’t help but wonder, if the rest of the world hadn’t rejected you and the Forsaken, whether you might have had friends by your side to prevent you from lashing out at a world that failed you.”

“What do you hope to gain from this ‘interrogation’?” Sylvanas asked. Though Jaina’s fingers had left, their imprint lingered on her skin, leaving it unnaturally warm. “Reassurance that you wouldn’t have tortured me as Arthas did? Confirmation that some scrap of your erroneous definition of goodness remains within me, and would have remained within you as well, were our roles reversed?”

Jaina held her eyes in another intense stare, one that scoured the very depths of Sylvanas’s soul. “Maybe I just need to find out if there’s any humanity left in you.”

Sylvanas sneered. Part of her almost wished Jaina would kill her and get it over with. These prying questions were their own obnoxious form of torture, and she might have preferred physical abuse. “Setting aside the fact that I have never been human, ‘humanity’ is a weak, useless concept. Much like pity.”

“I don’t pity you,” Jaina protested, “but I believe I understand you, at least in part.”

“Oh?” Sylvanas raised her tufted eyebrows. “Do you  _ really?” _

“I do.”

“And what gives you the right?” Sylvanas said, firing her words as if they were arrows. With her limbs bound, they were the only means of attack left to her. “Why would you think—”

“Because I can smell your need.”

“My—what?”

“Your need. For conversation. For understanding. For touch. We all have those needs. You’re no exception.”

Sylvanas froze. Jaina’s words rang in her head like a thunderclap. Since she’d awakened in this empty stone cell, she’d tried her best to ignore the unsettling sensations brewing within her, but one statement from Jaina, and her defenses were stripped away, forcing her to acknowledge the truth of the omega’s declaration.

She could have remained silent, but had chosen to converse with Jaina, because talking was better than silence.

She could have jerked away from Jaina’s touch, but had chosen to accept it. She could have stopped breathing, so as not to inhale Jaina’s scent, but had chosen to keep inhaling steadily, reluctant to cut herself off from that nonverbal form of communication.

She could have ignored Jaina, or at least demanded the omega leave, but she’d done neither. She had, in fact, strung out their conversation, in what she now realized was a pathetic hope that Jaina would stay with her. Because having anyone, even a sworn enemy, nearby was better than being alone.

_ After everything I have endured, all the ruined people and bodies I’ve left in my wake, I  _ still  _ fear being alone. _

When Jaina’s hand touched her arm again, Sylvanas remained rigid as stone. She didn’t have the strength of will to jerk away when Jaina’s face drew close to hers.

“I don’t think the Ranger-General died that day,” Jaina whispered, her breath warm beside Sylvanas’s cheek. “Not completely. But she’s suffering. Starving herself of what she needs.”

Sylvanas swallowed around her tongue. Jaina’s scent was stronger, coiling into her nose, hooking into her belly,  _ pulling _ in an irresistible way. “The woman you seek is dead. I am all that remains.”

Jaina gave a quiet laugh that caressed Sylvanas’s ear. “I would have said the same thing about myself after Theramore. That the old Jaina was dead, metaphorically. But she came back—changed, but unbroken. It’s time for this to end, Sylvanas. The world has enough pain without you inflicting more.”

For a moment, Sylvanas wondered whether Jaina intended to kill her after all. Her mind raced, searching for the best way to break her bonds and flee. Before she could react, Jaina leaned in, hovering mere inches away.

And then Jaina kissed her.

Jaina’s lips lit Sylvanas aflame. She simply wasn’t prepared—not for the kiss, nor its heat and urgency. The pressure of Jaina’s mouth made her head spin, and the sweep of Jaina’s tongue caused her own lips to part, ceding to instincts long-buried.

It was not a gentle kiss. Abrupt at first, then bruising, Jaina claimed her mouth like the prow of a ship carving through choppy waves. Sharp, jolting, unstoppable.

Nevertheless, Sylvanas reacted in ways she hadn’t known she was still capable of. She tensed, as though in anticipation of the heady rush of blood such a kiss would have caused in life. Her heart, which didn’t need to beat to sustain the spirit that lived within her magically restored body, gave a sluggish twitch from memory alone.

She struggled against her bonds, realizing a second later that, if her hands hadn’t been restrained, she might have tangled her fingers into Jaina’s hair. It was a ridiculous notion, almost as ridiculous as allowing one of her sworn enemies to kiss her… and kissing back.

But Jaina’s lips fit nicely with hers. She smelled delicious, in ways that made Sylvanas wish she were still alive. Ranger-General Sylvanas would have very much appreciated being kissed by a beautiful omega who wished to devour her. An omega with warm skin and soft breasts and greedy hands, which had grabbed the spikes on her pauldrons and refused to let go.

_ What am I doing? _

Sylvanas jerked away, panting, but it was too late. She had kissed Jaina back. Had moved her own lips in search of something like a rhythm. Felt the urge to reach for the omega’s hair, to touch her in some way. And, gods, she’d wanted Jaina to continue touching her in turn. She hadn’t felt desire like that since her death, or if she had, she’d refused to admit it.

Jaina didn’t seem upset by the rejection. Resting her forehead against the crook of Sylvanas’s neck, she inhaled deeply, as though searching for sustenance. The sound, or perhaps the mere knowledge that Jaina was scenting her, sent Sylvanas into another tailspin. Her cock stirred inside her leathers, swelling rapidly.

That was a disturbing response all on its own. Erections simply weren’t part of her day to day existence anymore. Many physical reactions which had once been automatic now took concentrated effort. Not this one. Her heart gave another uncertain stutter, and the pressure between her legs grew, a heavy fullness that strained toward Jaina as if seeking relief.

Of course, Jaina noticed. She drew back, staring directly into Sylvanas’s eyes, then flicking her gaze downward. She exhaled, her cheeks going pink. Her constant, living heartbeat and breaths were so loud to Sylvanas’s ears that they practically screamed in her skull. 

No! This could not continue. She was Forsaken, the Banshee Queen, so far removed from such base urges that she had not indulged in twenty years, let alone with an enemy. Furthermore, she was restrained. A prisoner. Helpless. Helpless was  _ not  _ how she’d mated in life. Her alpha pride wasn’t dead, even if she was.

“Cease this foolish game,” Sylvanas snarled, fixing Jaina with a glare. “You cannot possibly feel desire for me. Leave, or kill me.”

Jaina’s eyes lifted to meet hers once more. “This is no game.” Her hand slid from Sylvanas’s pauldron to her hair, her neck, and finally, her cheek. 

Sylvanas knew she should pull away, but a force far stronger than she was took hold, demanding she allow Jaina’s hand to remain. With a moan of distress, she found herself pushing into Jaina’s touch. Jaina caressed her face, and her cock throbbed in the confines of her leggings as her fevered mind imagined what that same caress would feel like lower, between her legs.

“Tell me not to kiss you again,” Jaina said, “and I won’t.”

Sylvanas tried, but couldn’t form the words. Instead, she nuzzled the inside of Jaina’s wrist even as she seethed with indignation.  _ What am I doing? Have I completely lost my mind? Abandoned all reason?  _ But Jaina had already pulled down her hood to grasp the loose locks of her hair, and when the omega’s lips claimed hers again, Sylvanas couldn’t pull away.

She didn’t remember to fight until Jaina began removing her armor. The thought of being stripped was terrifying, not merely for the access Jaina would have to her body, but for more ephemeral reasons she couldn’t articulate. She struggled, baring her teeth, writhing in her attempts to tear free of her magical bonds. Oily black smoke seethed across her skin, hissing and boiling, causing Jaina to withdraw with an alarmed expression.

“How dare you?” Sylvanas snarled, her voice growing in volume and fury. “How dare you assume that I want… that I…” Her voice trailed off. Jaina no longer looked momentarily terrified, as Sylvanas had expected—as  _ everyone  _ who had ever evoked the Banshee Queen’s wrath had looked before their inevitable deaths—but… sad? Was that  _ pity _ she saw in the omega’s eyes?

Sylvanas’s fury was swiftly replaced with loathing. She didn’t need anyone’s pity, least of all the pity of some pretentious human omega who had no frame of reference for the suffering she had endured. “How  _ dare _ you,” she said again, but the words had lost their edge, an arrow without a point.

Jaina knew it, too. “Tell me you don’t need this, then,” she repeated, with infuriating calmness. “Say no, or break free and stop me.”

Sylvanas wasn’t entirely sure she  _ could _ break free of Jaina’s invisible hold, but saying no? She could certainly do that. She opened her mouth… 

… and the word refused to come out. It died on her lips, turning into a moan of surprise as Jaina’s mouth returned, warm and sure against hers. Their third kiss didn’t feel like pity. It felt like fire, and Sylvanas found herself consumed by its burn.

This time, she didn’t—or couldn’t—stop Jaina from attempting to remove her armor. Jaina took her boots off first, which required them to end the kiss and caused Sylvanas to groan in distress. Though she’d only tasted Jaina’s mouth for a few more precious seconds, she already felt as though she were suffocating without it.

“Hold still,” Jaina said, in a honeyed voice layered with omega persuasion.

Sylvanas had no choice but to obey as Jaina unfastened her plated greaves. They came away easily, as did the thin layer of protective chainmail overtop her more flexible leggings. The heat of Jaina’s hands was more apparent through the leather, and Sylvanas wasn’t sure whether to part her thighs or close them.

The decision was made for her as Jaina cupped the bulge between her legs. Her cock ached as it never had before, throbbing beneath the gentle pressure. She hissed as the head leaked, smearing fluid within her smallclothes until the damp fabric clung.

“How long has it been?” Jaina whispered, her breath hot against Sylvanas’s ear.

Sylvanas dug her fangs into her bottom lip. Answering would reveal far too much. She was already bound, subject to Jaina’s whims. It wouldn’t do to show more vulnerability…

Jaina squeezed again, fingers toying with the laces of her fly. “How long, Sylvanas?”

The words came unbidden from Sylvanas’s shaking lips. “Not since my death.”

Jaina’s face softened, and Sylvanas’s stomach lurched. Surely Jaina didn’t consider this some kind of mercy, did she? Some twisted favor? Or was Jaina trying to establish dominance over an enemy? An omega turning the tables on an alpha?

Her questions scattered to the winds as Jaina opened her pants, taking her in hand.  _ Belore, _ she’d forgotten. Forgotten how good it felt to be touched anywhere, let alone her cock. Forgotten the eagerness, the excitement, the exhilaration. Spots splashed across her field of vision as Jaina pumped her from base to tip, sweeping a thumb through the dripping furrow at the head.

“Release me,” Sylvanas croaked, fighting to keep her hips still. She didn’t want to give Jaina the satisfaction of bucking and arching, like an obedient omega taking their mate to the hilt. “If you truly wish this, free me.”

But Jaina didn’t release her. She kissed Sylvanas again, and the hunger of her mouth made the demand irrelevant.

Jaina obviously had some experience with this. Her hand knew precisely how fast to pump, how firmly to grip. Each stroke set Sylvanas shaking. She dug her nails into her own palms, attempting to ground herself with mild pain, but it was useless. Jaina had ensnared her, causing her entire world to narrow between her legs.

“Tell me,” Jaina whispered, “is this what you’ve needed?”

It was an absurd question. What Sylvanas needed was to be left alone. To wake from this dream—this nightmare—and return to her life, such as it was.

And yet, part of her didn’t want to.

Here in this empty cell, there were no Forsaken to defend. There was no Horde to lead. There were no traumas to forget. No longer a figurehead, situated above and apart from everyone else, she felt... different. More like she’d once been. She  _ felt  _ again _ ,  _ and though it was terrifying, she feared herself incapable of stopping.

Her body was equally incapable. She felt centuries younger, as though burning in the grip of her first rut. Dimly, she wondered if that had actually happened. If Jaina had reignited her  _ Quel’felo, _ her High Flame, somehow. That would explain her desperation and lack of resistance. For the first time since her resurrection, her body had become a weapon to be used against her, a living thing beyond her control, in someone else’s thrall.

“Release me!” She twisted against her bindings, panting with exertion. “Let me—”

_ Let me do what? _

Sylvanas was uncertain. Would she flee? Take revenge upon Jaina by killing her? Pin the omega to the floor and fuck her the way she deserved?

It didn’t matter. Jaina was determined to see this through, and Sylvanas was too overwhelmed to resist. Her only outlet was a strangled cry as Jaina coaxed more wetness from the wellspring of her cockhead, smearing the shaft with fluid to make each stroke smooth.

The slippery pressure of Jaina’s fist brought about Sylvanas’s undoing. She bucked, the muscles in her thighs and rear tensing as she spilled. And, oh—she spilled. She came in sharp spurts, emptying overtop Jaina’s fingers and onto her own stomach. Streams of come ran in sideways rivulets off the leather guard around her midriff, making the dark brown material gleam.

Sylvanas found herself completely entranced by the sight of her own release. She watched, frozen in terror and awe, as Jaina pumped her for all she had. Again and again she pulsed, throbbing in the omega’s gentle grip, until her oversensitive shaft gave several weak twitches, aching in protest. 

She felt utterly drained, as though more than just her cock had been emptied, but her length didn’t soften against her leg. The base had swelled to twice its previous size, forming a knot that Sylvanas knew wouldn’t shrink for some time yet. She winced as Jaina continued stroking with a much lighter grip, guiding her down from her peak.

“Why?” Sylvanas asked when she finally found her words. She inwardly cursed her own voice, weak and trembling as it was, despising herself all the more for the sound of it in her ears. “Why degrade us both this way?”

Jaina didn’t answer immediately. She removed her hand, causing Sylvanas to exhale in relief. Or perhaps it was the soothing pheromones rolling off Jaina and onto her like calming waves upon the shore. This was the pull of an omega grown into her full power, as irresistible as the tides. Despite herself, Sylvanas relaxed.

“Because,” Jaina murmured, bringing her fingers to Sylvanas’s lips, “you need to remember that there’s  _ more.  _ Like I did.”

_ More than what? Pain? Suffering? Loss? _

Sylvanas never got to verbalize the question. Jaina’s fingers slid into her mouth, and she sucked, driven to do so by forces beyond her control. They were warm from Jaina’s body heat and salty from her own come, so she slid her tongue through and around, gathering all the flavor she could.

“Good.”

The word snapped Sylvanas out of her lustful stupor. She jerked away, spitting upon the stones. “I do not want your  _ praise,” _ she snarled, fixing Jaina with her fiercest glare. She had mastered her alpha instincts before. She could do so now as well, despite her initial failure. It didn’t matter that her cock already ached again, or that her cursedly weak flesh tingled with the hope that Jaina might lavish more attention upon her.

Jaina rose from the floor and stepped back, removing her greatcoat and undoing the clasps on her corset. She stripped perfunctorily, without the intent to arouse, but Sylvanas watched anyway, an unwelcome hunger rising within her as each layer was peeled away. Once more, she tested her bonds. Still unbreakable. Her limbs twinged like taut bowstrings and her teeth longed to sink into the pale flesh of Jaina’s throat.

_ I will, _ she promised herself.  _ As soon as I have the opportunity, I will reclaim everything she has taken from me and more. _

Soon, Jaina was naked. Bared, her body was pale as moonlight and twice as glorious. Without the corset, her breasts hung full and heavy beneath a silver anchor pendant, capped with thick pink nipples. Her hips and thighs were equally generous, leading to a triangle of golden curls, just a shade darker than the lone blonde streak that remained in her glowing white hair.

Her beauty made Sylvanas angry. This was the one way, the  _ only _ way, in which Arthas had not been capable of violating her. He had flayed her soul until her screams died, but as a fellow alpha, he had never bewitched her thus. He had kept her corpse as a trophy, but hadn’t infused it with such fervent longing that it no longer felt like her own, even while she still inhabited it.

“Tell me not to do this.” Jaina kicked aside her clothes, returning to her knees. As she approached, Sylvanas’s heart, unaccustomed to beating so regularly, hammered faster. “Tell me this isn’t what you need. Tell me you haven’t missed connecting with another person, and I’ll release you.”

Sylvanas tried to say exactly that, but once more, the words died upon her lips. Had any of the old Sylvanas’s tears remained, they would have fallen out of sheer frustration—not with Jaina, but herself.  _ Why _ could she not make such a simple statement, one she wholeheartedly believed? She didn’t need this. She didn’t miss her previous life. She most definitely didn’t crave connection, sexual or otherwise. Suffering alone had strengthened her—

She allowed Jaina to remove her pauldrons, her cuirass, and the stained leather wrap around her midriff without fighting, despising her own weakness all the while. She shuddered as the omega stripped her of her remaining armor, peeling away the final barrier between their bodies.

“Lie back,” Jaina commanded.

Sylvanas did so with Jaina’s assistance. The magic bindings around her wrists moved, separating her arms and pinning them to the floor on either side. Her pitiful state infuriated, but also thrilled her. Some sick part of her wanted to surrender, to set aside the weight she had carried for so long and simply allow Jaina to have her way.

_ How? How has she tricked me into participating in my own violation? Some wicked magic, or—  _ But the source of her desperation didn’t matter, because it couldn’t be denied as Jaina stretched on top of her.

Feeling another body pressed against her own, flesh to flesh, was an ecstasy Sylvanas was in no way prepared for. The only time anyone had touched her in the past twenty years had been in the midst of battle, with the intention of causing her pain. She choked back a whimper, but wasn’t as adept at suppressing her shiver of delight.

Jaina’s body was so warm. Soft. It fit perfectly with hers. As the omega’s breasts pressed into her own, their stomachs brushing, Sylvanas wondered if she were dreaming. But she had never dreamt like this before. Her dreams were made of far more horrifying things, so this had to be real. The hot mouth that sucked the crook of her neck was real. The gentle hands running along her thighs, urging them to part, were real. The curved plane of Jaina’s belly, which offered the perfect surface for her cock to rub against, was real.

Sylvanas forgot herself as Jaina’s mouth found the base of her throat, following the line of her collarbone. Her fingers gouged the stones beneath her, wishing for nothing more than to tangle in Jaina’s hair or rake lines down her back, but it was no use. She could only moan and squirm as Jaina’s lips wrapped around her right nipple, drawing it into blissful heat.

The stimulation made Sylvanas’s head loll sideways. She wanted to watch, but didn’t possess the fortitude. It was all she could do to keep from screaming as Jaina kissed and nipped her breasts, playing with one and then the other. She nearly came as one of Jaina’s hands slid between her legs, caressing the puffy, sensitive bulge at the base of her shaft that remained from her first knot.

“You’re so hard,” Jaina mumbled into Sylvanas’s sternum. “Let me help. I want to help.” She repeated that phrase,  _ Let me help, _ as she kissed down Sylvanas’s body, descending inches at a time before dragging her mouth back up to continue sucking Sylvanas’s nipples. All the while, her hand stroked, sending Sylvanas hurtling toward a second release.

“Stop,” Sylvanas growled, using what little range of motion remained to thrust through Jaina’s fist. What she meant was,  _ Stop teasing, _ and fortunately, Jaina seemed to understand the distinction. She paused momentarily, looking up at Sylvanas’s face as if searching for something before resuming, kissing down her stomach with a clear destination in mind.

The heat of Jaina’s mouth was overwhelming. It had felt otherworldly on her neck and breasts, but the moment it sealed around her cockhead, Sylvanas cried out. Her wail filled the room, but there wasn’t enough space within her for shame or embarrassment. It had been  _ so long. _ She could hardly remember the last time… 

Every instinct she possessed screamed for her to grab the back of Jaina’s head, to thrust upward and empty herself in the omega’s willing mouth. Since her hands were stuck to the floor, she gazed down instead, watching in disbelief. Never had she ceded such control to a sexual partner, but she couldn’t imagine asking Jaina to stop, either. She looked so beautiful, cheeks hollowed as she sucked, her soft moans vibrating along Sylvanas’s length.

And then the sight became even more stunning, because Jaina stopped squeezing Sylvanas’s knot and put her hands to better use, cupping her own breasts and lifting them to make a channel of her cleavage.

Sylvanas tensed, releasing a quiet grunt. This was the last thing she’d expected from someone of Jaina’s status—Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, Daughter of the Sea, Azeroth’s most skilled mage, not only allowing, but  _ encouraging _ an alpha to fuck her breasts.

It was such a surprise that Jaina had to do all the work of establishing the rhythm, which she did, pushing her breasts together and rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger. That small, visible gesture of self-pleasure aroused Sylvanas more than the hot tongue lapping her tip and the pillowy softness sliding along her shaft. Jaina felt desire, too. Desire for her.

_ You have no proof of that. Surely this is merely a means to an end, and you are falling for it. _

But the idea that someone wanted her was intoxicating. Sylvanas surrendered to it, basking in the notion that, perhaps, Jaina felt the same irresistible pull she did. The same burning desire to join their bodies. It electrified her. Made her feel  _ alive. _

“Proudmoore,” she groaned, gritting her teeth against the rapidly building pressure. Rather than fighting Jaina, she found herself fighting her own need. She didn’t want to come. She wanted to continue watching herself thrust through Jaina’s breasts and past her lips for as long as possible. Wanted to savor the silky heat of Jaina’s tongue as it licked up every drop that leaked from her aching furrow.

Jaina released her cockhead to the cool air, causing Sylvanas to hiss.

“Jaina. Just Jaina.”

Her lips descended again, and Sylvanas was lost. She wasn’t sure whether she shouted Jaina’s name, or something unintelligible. A massive wave of pleasure carried her higher than she’d ever been, leaving her dizzy and lightheaded. Her eyes squeezed shut against her wishes, and her jaw hung loose as come flooded from her cock, pulsing along her length and into Jaina’s mouth.

After several blissful bursts, Sylvanas’s eyes snapped open. She stared, spellbound, as Jaina’s lips withdrew, allowing the next surge of come to splash onto the tops of her breasts. The sight of her own release spilling across Jaina’s lightly-freckled skin was too much. This time, she did scream Jaina’s name, emptying for what felt like an eternity.

When she had nothing more to give, Sylvanas sagged back onto the stones. Her fingers twitched weakly, searching for something to grasp while Jaina covered her cock with feather-light kisses.

“No,” Jaina whispered, after following a shimmering line of fluid that had dripped down Sylvanas’s shaft with her tongue. “Stay hard for me. I’m not finished.”

Sylvanas gasped, pulsing beneath the tender ministrations of Jaina’s tongue. Not finished? Did that mean Jaina wanted to mate with her? Somehow, she doubted it. She still wasn’t sure why this living omega had condescended to touch her, a broken shell of the alpha she’d once been. And yet, Jaina was climbing on top of her, placing one hand on her stomach, bringing another to her hip for balance.

“What are you doing?”

Jaina paused, gazing down with a knitted brow and deep blue eyes that held more emotion than Sylvanas could read with a single look. “Tell me you don’t want me.” Her hand moved from Sylvanas’s hip to her cock, which hardened again in an instant. “Tell me you don’t want to be inside me. Say no, and I’ll leave.”

Leave? No!

It was unthinkable. Unbearable. The very thought was agony. She had gone from despising Proudmoore to needing her with the ferocity of a demon, all within the space of a few minutes. She gathered her courage and what little control remained to her, holding Jaina’s gaze. “If you want me inside you,” she rasped, “release me.”

Jaina gave Sylvanas’s cock a slow pump, guiding it into position. “Not yet.”

Hot. Wet. Sylvanas’s lashes fluttered as Jaina’s cunt grazed her cockhead, already slippery with need. There was so much warmth. So much slickness. Maybe… maybe Jaina truly wanted her after all, though Sylvanas couldn’t understand why. It made even less sense than her own bewildering desires.

“Prou—Jaina,” Sylvanas begged. “Jaina…” She couldn’t force herself to say yes, and saying no was a complete impossibility, but the pleading note in her tone must have been enough, because Jaina sank down, the shining pink lips of her pussy parting to accept Sylvanas’s cock.

Sylvanas watched in awe as her head pushed inside. Tight, smooth muscles closed around her, squeezing as if to draw her deeper. By the sun, it had been an age since she’d had an omega wrapped around her cock. Inch by inch Jaina took her, until their pelvises met and Jaina’s damp blonde curls rested against the short, wispy hairs above Sylvanas’s shaft. Only her knot, still hard and aching, remained outside.

“Last chance,” Jaina said, with such tenderness that Sylvanas’s skin crawled, even as she yearned to wrap herself in the safety and sweetness of that voice forever. “Tell me no.”

“... Please.”

_ Please, ride me. _

_ Please, let me come. _

_ Please, remind me how to feel. _

_ Remind me why feeling something, anything, other than pain is worth the risk. _

Her ‘please’ meant many things, but Jaina’s response satisfied them all and more. The omega began rocking, rising and falling at a slow, deliberate pace.

Sylvanas broke then, in a way beyond the physical. Something inside her shattered, and a flood of warmth,  _ Jaina’s _ warmth, soothed and consumed her, like rain cleansing scorched earth. No longer tormented, but ecstatic, she met Jaina’s swaying movements with eager upward thrusts, fully lost to the moment.

The things she’d done and the choices she’d made didn’t matter. What she did or didn’t deserve was meaningless. What she’d suffered was part of her past, nothing more. In the present, she was sheathed to the hilt in an omega who smelled like home. More than just her armor had been stripped away. Her shackles had been broken, but she hadn’t.

It wasn’t with humiliation, but wholehearted relief that she raced toward her third peak. She pulsed within the smooth grip of Jaina’s walls, arching just as she’d said she wouldn’t mere minutes earlier. Status didn’t matter now. Her alpha pride no longer craved total control, but to make sure Jaina shared in her pleasure. The scent of Jaina’s need surrounded her, infusing every movement, every touch, with longing.

“Release me,” she pleaded, one final time.

Jaina slowed, giving a particularly wicked swivel of her hips and bearing down. Sylvanas trembled from the tips of her ears to her toes. “Why should I?”

Sylvanas didn’t hesitate. “So I can touch you.”

That was the correct answer. Suddenly, Sylvanas found her hands free. Without a trace of doubt, she brought her left to Jaina’s hip and her right between their bodies, seeking out Jaina’s clit. It stood swollen and stiff beneath its hood, slippery with wetness. Sylvanas stroked in swift circles, delighting in the rising moans her efforts coaxed from Jaina’s throat.

“Sylvanas.  _ Sylvanas.” _

Her name. Jaina had said  _ her name. _ When was the last time a lover had uttered her name thus? With such raw plaintiveness? She spread her fingers, forming a ‘v’ to better milk Jaina’s clit, but found herself prevented from doing so. Jaina’s hand laced with hers, guiding the same to her hip.

“Hold me,” she murmured, “while I take your knot.”

Sylvanas’s eyes widened. Though she’d overcome her initial disbelief that Jaina would mate with her at all, she hadn’t expected that. Omegas were at their most vulnerable while knotted—literally tied to their mate, unable to escape. It was a gesture of trust Sylvanas knew she was completely unworthy of, and Jaina had to be insane for offering.

“We’ve tried to kill each other.  _ Today.” _

But Jaina’s face read determination as she smiled down at Sylvanas. “I know.”

“I could kill you right now.”

“And I could kill you. But we’re both still alive, relatively speaking.” Jaina linked both their hands, holding tight, allowing Sylvanas to offer some support. “Be patient. It’s been a while for me, too.”

Sylvanas remained stunned for several moments. She still wasn’t entirely sure Jaina was serious until the omega resumed rocking atop her, grinding against her knot and coating it liberally with wetness.

“You are every bit as insane as everyone claims,” she said with unconcealed admiration, staring down the length of her body to watch Jaina. It was an arduous process that made her knot pound with unsatisfied need, tormented as it was by the tight ring of Jaina’s entrance, but as requested, she remained patient. Some of her lost control had returned at the promise of such a splendid reward.

“The same could be said of you,” Jaina said. Then, “Oh,  _ fuck me, _ you’re big,” in a shaking voice that caused Sylvanas to tremble in turn.

There was no need to talk after that. Instead, they gave twin cries as something inside Jaina loosened, and Sylvanas’s knot finally slipped forward into paradise. Jaina had her, wholly and completely.

They stared at each other for a long moment, joined by the overwhelming sensation of the tie. Of filling and being filled. Then Sylvanas glanced down, her gaze drawn to the captivating sight of Jaina’s outer lips stretched obscenely wide around the base of her cock. Their flesh gleamed, bruised purple nestled within flushed pink. The bud of Jaina’s clit poked out, straining in search of stimulation.

This time, it was Jaina who guided their linked hands back between her legs. Sylvanas took over the task of stroking while Jaina moved. Unable to rise and fall with the flare of the knot inside her, the omega rolled her hips forward and back instead. Soft tugs travelled along Sylvanas’s shaft, each tiny motion amplified by the sheer tightness of Jaina’s walls straining to hold her.

It was all too much. The silken warmth of Jaina’s cunt. Jaina’s clit beneath her fingers. The heaviness of Jaina’s scent, growing ever stronger. Jaina, Jaina,  _ Jaina— _ around and above and within her, somehow, even though it was her cock thrusting up into the whimpering, writhing, wondrous creature straddling her hips.

Jaina shifted, bending down to brace herself upon her elbows. Their breasts brushed, and Sylvanas became keenly aware that Jaina’s lips were mere inches from hers.

“Kiss me,” Jaina said.

Sylvanas did, with all the passion she could muster.

This time, they came together.

At first, Sylvanas felt only the sharpness of her own ecstasy. Her knot pounded, her shaft pulsed, and she filled Jaina with everything she had, spilling muffled cries into the omega’s mouth. But then, as unbearable pressure gave way to sweet release, she felt a far greater satisfaction: a deep, powerful ripple of Jaina’s inner walls.

In her frenzied state, there wasn’t much Sylvanas could do to further encourage Jaina’s peak. Her fingers slid clumsily over Jaina’s clit, as though she were a pup fumbling through her first High Flame all over again—and in a sense, she was. Not a pup, of course, but a novice fumbling through something new, or rather, something long forgotten.

Her efforts were enough. Jaina clenched tighter around her, pulling a fresh flood from her cock. Sylvanas arched away from the floor and didn’t come back down, groping Jaina’s rear in her free hand, desperate to hold her, to keep her, to maintain their connection for as long as possible.

_ “Sylvanas.” _

Once more, Sylvanas shuddered at the sound of her name. Jaina panted it into her neck, nuzzling the place where her pulse point used to be, exploring the tender area with lips and teeth.

Sylvanas went rigid, but not with fear. She thrust out of rhythm, spilling faster.  _ Does she mean to bite me? Mate me?  _ In some distant part of her mind, she realized she couldn’t possibly allow such a thing. Permitting Jaina Proudmoore, perhaps the Alliance’s greatest hero and one of the Horde’s greatest enemies, to bite her?  _ Mark _ her, even temporarily? Unthinkable.

But she had long since stopped thinking. She’d descended into a place of pure instinct and emotion, a place where allowing Jaina to bite her seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

She waited, quivering, but the bite never came. Jaina’s teeth pressed into her flesh, holding a mouthful of shoulder, but didn’t break skin. The heat of her mouth remained, merely sucking, until Sylvanas realized what she was waiting for. Piece by piece, Jaina had stripped away her armor. Now, Sylvanas knew, she had to take the final step herself.

With a whine of longing, Sylvanas sank her fangs into the side of Jaina’s neck, where the carotid beat like a drum. The coppery taste of blood, of  _ life _ , hit her tongue, carrying the sweet essence of arcane, and Sylvanas melted, giving herself over to the only force in the world greater than pain.

Jaina growled in a very un-omegalike manner, biting Sylvanas’s shoulder as well. There was a brief stab of pain, but within a heartskip, it exploded into a shockwave of pleasure that eclipsed everything else, so powerful that it sent Sylvanas floating amongst stars.

Sylvanas had no idea how long they remained that way, locked together by teeth and knot. She didn’t know how many minutes she spent shuddering in Jaina’s arms, weak as a newborn nightsaber kit despite her undead strength and stamina. She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. There wasn’t room within her mind, body, or soul for anything—or anyone—else until she finished coming yet again and collapsed to the floor, bathed in sweat that wasn’t her own.

Jaina’s soft weight remained on top of her, shifting rhythmically with each breath that flared from her nostrils, since her mouth was occupied. Sylvanas found the rhythm oddly soothing. Slowly, carefully, she withdrew her fangs from the ragged bite mark she had left on Jaina’s shoulder, admiring the dark crimson blood that oozed forth. It was already starting to heal—Jaina’s omega hormones, no doubt—but it would definitely scar.

Just as carefully, Jaina loosened her bite as well.

“I should be honest with you,” she said, brushing aside a stray lock of Sylvanas’s hair to better see the mark she’d made. “I came here intending to offer myself and claim you from the beginning.”

Sylvanas blinked, unable to summon an appropriately shocked or offended reaction. She had reached her limit for surprises today, she supposed. What was one more? “Your precious king may not approve of your choice.”

Jaina snorted. “It was his idea to begin with. Once we had you, our only options were to kill you for good—which would only worsen the Horde-Alliance conflict—or marry you off. To one of us. Which might have a slim chance of bettering relations between our factions, if we could convince you.”

“And you drew the short straw?” Sylvanas asked, valiantly trying to ignore the way her heart sank.

“I volunteered,” Jaina said, with such insistence that Sylvanas was taken aback.

“Volunteered? Why on Azeroth would you do that? Even  _ I _ wouldn’t volunteer to bond with someone like me.”

“I already told you. Because I understand you better than most, Sylvanas. I understand what it’s like to lose everything, and externalize that pain. And since my previous mate was the one who murdered you, it seemed only fitting that I should make up for one of his worst mistakes.”

Sylvanas licked her lips, still tasting traces of Jaina’s blood. For the first time she could recall, the mention of Arthas did not bring a piercing stab of agony to the large scar on her breastbone. “You no longer wear his mark.”

Jaina’s brow furrowed. “Of course not. I wouldn’t bear the bite of a monster.”

_ Wouldn’t bear the bite of a monster. And yet, she wears my mark now. What does that make me? _

“Arthas was good once,” Jaina continued. “He had good intentions. But what he became… his own choices led him there, just as your choices led you here.”

“And if I had not accepted you?” Sylvanas asked.

“I… honestly hadn’t thought that part through.” Jaina flushed, looking almost embarrassed. “Maybe I would have killed you after all. My mother says I can be impulsive.”

_ Oh. Oh no. _

With creeping dread, Sylvanas realized that her entire world had changed yet again. She was lucky, she supposed, that Jaina had decided to mate her rather than kill her, but if she decided to go along with this insane plan to establish peace between their factions, it would mean a great deal of bother, to put it mildly.

_ Worse still, I might need to speak to my sisters again. _

“This is a disaster,” Sylvanas said, with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Can you imagine Tyrande going along with this?  _ Greymane? _ Quite the gamble for you and your king to make.”

“I convinced you,” Jaina said simply, “and I’d say you were the hardest sell.”

Sylvanas sighed. “There’s still time for us to kill each other, I suppose.”

“Are you sure?” Jaina trailed a fingertip along the edge of Sylvanas’s ear, causing it to flick with annoyance. “Because I can think of better things we could be doing.” She rolled her hips again to make her meaning clear, and Sylvanas groaned, knot twitching.

“Perhaps you could summon some furniture? This floor is far from comfortable, and unlike you, I don’t have a soft body to lie on.”

“Hmm.” Jaina hooked her legs around Sylvanas’s hips, rolling them sideways and reversing their positions. “Now you do. Good enough?”

Sylvanas braced herself on her elbows, gazing down into Jaina’s eyes. Their particular shade of blue had already become intimately familiar to her in the past few minutes, as had the faint scattering of freckles on the bridge of Jaina’s nose. She dipped her head, placing a lingering kiss on Jaina’s lips.

“Yes. For now.”


End file.
